


Return

by Moonlight222



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff and Smut, HOORAY, I'm Going to Hell, M/M, moderate smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 06:13:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3239294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonlight222/pseuds/Moonlight222
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock had returned from a week's leave at the dawn of midnight, who awaits him? none other than John Watson himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Return

**Author's Note:**

> O hay, first time finally getting to writing smut without using a word relative to penis! hooray for non-genitalia!  
> that still doesn't mean that such things were implied though...

John leaned against the rickety table, worried. “What the hell would Sherlock be doing now?” John glanced at the clock, hopefully the detective would arrive soon, 11:56 pm. He began sitting on the table, crossing his legs, getting worried by the minute. It was if he couldn’t be without the man, as if Sherlock was his life support. The doctor cringed, how cheesy, nobody was around anyway.

12:00 and not a second later, the door suddenly swung open and a familiar, tall and lanky man sauntered into the flat. John jumped onto the floor from the table and was down the stairs in less than a second. “Sherlock!” John said as he practically tripped down the stairs and into the detective’s arms, knocking them both to the floor. The overjoyed John Watson was almost suffocating Sherlock with his death grip hug.   
“Hello, John.” The detective said, assuring the doctor with a pat to his head. John wanted to just let this moment last forever from the fact that Sherlock, the fact he was practically invincible, was rumored to be dead multiple times, he may be invincible, but he was still human.

“John,” the taller man said to his flatmate, “I wish to show you something.” The detective stood the both of them up and grabbed the shorter man by the wrist up the stairs. John, still quite euphoric from earlier, followed him eagerly, trampling over a few steps as they quickly made their way to Sherlock’s room.

John suddenly awoke from his trance of pleased, reassured euphoria, wait a minute, what were they doing again? Sherlock closed the door, leaving a cold breeze follow the slight slam, sending a shiver down John’s spine. John felt like a wounded deer as a wolf walked towards his vulnerable body, glaring at him with a slight, hungry smirk.  
The short blonde felt overpowered as the detective’s face looked down at him with his mystic blue, observant glare. Warm, big hands cupped the blonde as they led his face to Sherlock’s, lips in sync, alive as both got into a rhythm. The empowering taller body of Sherlock’s pushed John onto the bed, as they broke into full makeout. 

Sherlock bit at John’s bottom lip, John let out a soft, audibly inactive moan. It was too late for John to say his usual “I’m not gay” catchphrase. Sherlock fiddled with John’s shirt buttons, sliding his shirt off while tracing his lips and tongue over John’s neck, occasionally biting at soft spots, every time the detective did so, John made sounds pleasurable to his ears.  
Red faced John, began to feel tight in his casual jeans, Sherlock surely would’ve noticed by now. The sly detective was clearly aroused as well. His mouth continued down John’s body, John could only feel melancholy colours spill all over his body, art, painting downward to… to what he could only describe as a masterpiece in the making. The way Sherlock moved his body, his hands moving to John’s jeans as he pulled his head up to take them off, it wasn’t a complete burning agony, but splashes of lavender and saturated silk blue, a description of lust.

As John’s body was finally exposed, Sherlock took full advantage of what lay in front of him, the panting and wanting body of John Watson awaited the detective’s next move. Sherlock engulfed him, John bit his lip to the point where his mouth would bleed, just to hold in a moan. Pleasure shook his spine like lightning, the built up moment was released and Sherlock was just fine with it, in fact he smiled on John.

John awoke the next morning, hearing a kettle, Sherlock was now obviously awake probably making tea. He walked out of Sherlock's room and went to join him.


End file.
